


Try

by Angel_made_of_scars



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Backstory, Depression, M/M, Medication, Suicidal Thoughts, antidepressants
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-18
Updated: 2016-06-18
Packaged: 2018-07-15 17:47:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7232524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Angel_made_of_scars/pseuds/Angel_made_of_scars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean realized Cas was depressed pretty quickly. Now he just had to convince him to care about his own health.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Try

**Author's Note:**

> I'm publishing this now because my phone is malfunctioning more every day. Photos are corrupting to nothing but gray blur and I've lost all of them. Apps aren't updating, or won't open at all. I deleted a few thinking it was a space issue but, no dice. I'm worried about my notes app corrupting next, so I'm backing them up, and publishing completed one, even if I think they aren't the best. In other words, this.

Cas turned his head to look up at the figure sitting on the edge of the bed. He didn't much feel like talking yet, so he turned his head away. 

"Cas, you need to talk to me." Dean said quietly.

His tone was even, like he was trying not to make Cas worry. It grated on his nerves, but the spark of anger was gone instantly, replaced by the sluggishness that crawled over his limbs and his brain.

"Do you want some medicine?" Dean murmered. He knew the question was going to happen, but it still made the anger flare back up to the fullest.

"Medication doesn't fix everything." Castiel snapped, his voice raised.

"It helps though." Dean shot back. Quickly he calmed his features. Cas knew he was angry, they'd been at it like this for over a month. He wasn't sure exactly how long though.

"Please go." Cas said quietly.

"No."

"Why won't you just leave it?!" Cas yelled, sitting up. Anger seemed to be the only real emotion he'd been feeling lately.

"Because I can't, ok? You need to take that as a fucking answer and let me help you. I don't care how! I'll steal you a drugstore, or I'll sit with you and talk, but you need to do something to help yourself!" Dean yelled. Cas took a breath and laid back down.

"Why should I?" Castiel mumbled.

Dean sucked in a breath and stood up on shaky legs. He crouched down swiftly to the edge of the bed and got at face level with Cas. He yanked Cas' arm from under the sheet, and Cas was going to protest, but he didn't do it in time.

"You shut your mouth. You listen to me. You will help yourself. You will. Because I-"

Cas watched, perplexed, as Deans voice caught in his throat. He waited, and sure enough, Dean took a calming breath before continuing.

"I've dealt with suicide. It's not like me and Sam down put down ghosts of suicide victims, or even talk down the ones still alive, on a fairly often basis. You... You can't be one of 'em. I won't let you." Dean said quietly.

"Dean-"

"No, shut up, will you?! I'm trying to... Shit, I'm trying to tell you something." Dean swallowed.

He put his face on the edge of the bed, and Cas waited. His hand was still clutched desperately, and now it seemed to be a lifeline. Cas squeezed back, and Dean made a noise, almost like a sob. Still, be sat up.

"I'm not suppose to tell you." Dean murmered.

"Tell me what?" Cas asked.

"I don't know if you were watching over me before you pulled me out, but I'm going to tell you anyway." Dean said. Cas just nodded.

"When I was twenty, and Sam was sixteen- fuck, sixteen years old... I found him with one of our guns. He was talking about all this awful shit, the people we hurt with our job, and somehow it all landed back on him. He even brought up mom." Dean said.

"Dean, what does this have to do with me?" Cas asked. Dean ignored him.

"He was crying, and damn it, I started crying, because I saw the notes in the envelopes by his elbow, and I knew what he was doing." Dean cried. A few tears went down his face, and Cas wanted to make him stop, if only so he didn't have to cry.

"I stopped him, but he was depressed for years. He finally started getting better before he left for college. I stole meds for him all the time, but he said he found better ways. Exercise, a good diet, and legal, four dollar zoloft. Hell, that's why he still runs and eats like a guinea pig."

"I'm sorry." Cas said quietly.

"Cas, it's not your fault, but you have to fight it. Please, please fight it. I can't..." Dean stopped, making a choked noise again, and Cas sat up in bed. He pulled on Deans shoulders, and Dean slid up to sit on the bed beside him.

"I can't do it again. I can't see Sam on the end of a gun, or you on the end of a knife. I just... Can't. That's what this does though, it gets worse, and fuck Cas, you're getting worse. I care about you so goddamn much, and you're just giving up!" Dean cried.

Cas took his shoulders and yanked him forward. He hugged him tight, and Dean slowly wrapped his arms around him, squeezing back hesitantly.

"Dean, I've seen... Beauty. I've seen mountains formed, and children birthed, and great rains that bring back life to huge forests. None of that compares to the friendships I've formed since taking my vessel. None compares to the emotions I've felt. I don't want to lose that. But I feel... Nothing. Except sadness. Blame. Doubt." Cas said.

"I know. I-I know, Sam said that too." Dean choked out.

"Sam is cured?" Cas said questioningly.

"No, hell no. Sometimes he comes to me and tells me he's bad again, but you know what we do?" Dean asked. Cas hummed as answer.

"We collect every funny movie we can find, or back in motel days, we'd pay-per-view them, and we'd get some popcorn and soda, and we'd take a day off. I'd run with him, and he'd make fun of me. I'd try to help, and if it meant him crying and me holding him, that's what we did. What we do." Dean corrected.

"What makes you think you can help me?" Cas asked.

"Because it's been a month and a half since you got here, and only four weeks since I knew something was wrong, and three weeks since me and Sam started collecting different antidepressants for you to try. Three weeks since I brought up depression, and three weeks since I've been bringing you meals in this room, because you won't get up." Dean said.

The grip on Cas' shirt tightened, and he knew it was being wrinkled by Deans fists. He took a deep breath and looked over at his phone, the thing he'd been playing mind numbing games on to pass time. It took him a moment to find something to say.

"Has it really been three weeks since I came out?" Cas asked.

"Yeah, you've been right here in this room. And by the smell of it, you haven't even used the connected bathroom, to shower." Dean said. He sat up and pulled away from Cas, wiping his face. He sniffed, like he was getting rid of the evidence of crying, even though Cas knew.

"I should bathe, yes." Cas said. Dean looked way too hopeful, and Cas instantly regretted it.

"Dean, you must know you can't just fix my... Depression. I'm still mildly angelic, antidepressant medication truly won't work on me." Cas said.

"Then we'll do what Sam did. We'll start you jogging, and go from there. Exercise is proven to help, brain chemicals and all that shit. I know it's not much, but I'll help you. Just promise me, nothing drastically life threatening, no stunts, ok?" Dean said. Cas swallowed around the lump in his throat and nodded.

"I don't want to kill myself Dean." Cas said.

"No, but you did once. And that look in you eyes just... Looks really familiar. So promise me." Dean said. Cas reached out and took his hand.

"I promise. I will tell you if I feel the urge to commit suicide. And I will start your jogging regiment." Cas said. Dean breathed out a sigh of relief.

"That's all I can ask. I'll be here too. Whatever you need. If you need to talk, or, or cry, or scream at me, I'm here. I promise that. Even if we're fighting, I'll be here." Dean said. Cas nodded.

"You know it may not work. You can't find me a miracle cure." Cas said.

"I know, but I'll do all I can, Sam too if you want. I can give him more details, and he can run with you-"

"I'd prefer if you would run with me too." Cas said.

"Of course, yeah. Been meaning to lose a few pounds, it'll be good. We could even go tonight." He said.

"Dean... Maybe... Tomorrow, alright? One thing at a time." Cas said. Dean nodded.

"Ok, yeah. I may be going a bit too fast. Listen, you take a shower. I'm making baked chicken for dinner, do you want me to bring you some?" Dean asked.

"You don't want me to sit out there?" Cas asked.

"Oh, well, I mean of course you can if you want. Just like you said, one thing at a time. I thought you'd like to stay in here." Dean said. Cas nodded, almost relieved.

"Thank you for everything. I think chicken would be wonderful." Cas said. He even tried for a smile. Dean knew it was forced, so he moved in quickly for another hug, then stood to leave.

"No problem, sorry for getting snot on your shirt." Dean chuckled.

"I'm going to go get started." He said, exiting Cas' room to give him privacy.

Dean didn't count it as a loss when he delivered Cas his food. His wet hair and clumsily shaven face gave him enough hope. Cas felt worry stir in his chest, at that hope he'd given Dean, but he pushed it away. He would try. He had to try. For Dean, and Sam, and himself. No promises. No guarantees. He'd try.

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted some regular old extreme angst, to take a break from my series. I know some people don't read my series and want normal stuff back, so here you are! :D


End file.
